


Scattered Seeds

by Raven_Ehtar



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asgard (Marvel), Avengers Tower, Developing Relationship, Feelings Realization, Fluff, FrostIron - Freeform, Gardens & Gardening, Kid Loki (Marvel), Light Angst, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-28 09:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18753541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Raven_Ehtar
Summary: When he'd been young, working in the gardens on Asgard had been a form of punishment for Loki. Now on Midgard, planting seeds might be a way of starting a new life.





	Scattered Seeds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaxonkreide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaxonkreide/gifts), [Rabentochter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/gifts), [AMidnightDreary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMidnightDreary/gifts).



> Story number 7 for Story a Day May!  
> (Barely making it this time, but there's still a few minutes until midnight!)
> 
> Still working on writing and editing at a sprinting pace. If you spot any errors, feel free to point them out, I'll get them fixed when I have a chance! ♥

“Loki!”

Up in his tree, the young Prince started, and looked down, automatically hiding his hands behind his back as he did. At the base of the tree stood a woman, her head tilted back and peering up through the thick leaves .

“Yes, mother?”

Frigga, Queen of Asgard and warrior equal to her husband, stood in her garden wearing a worn, dusty dress, her hair pulled away from her face and a hat on her head to keep off the summer sun. She squinted up at her son, a smudge of dirt on one cheek and her hands dark with soil. “Loki, what have I told you about climbing the trees?”

He frowned for a moment, trying to remember. “Do it barefoot if I could to hang on better?”

A small smile came to her lips, one which she seemed to be trying to repress. “Yes. But I believe I _also_ asked you not to climb into the fruit trees when they were still blooming.”

“Oh.” Loki looked round at the branches. He hadn't thought about it when he'd climbed up, but the tree _was_ covered in flowers. He'd been enjoying the busy buzzing of bees while he'd been sitting, as well as the sweet smells, but hadn't thought about his mother's rule. “Sorry.”

“It's fine, Loki. Just come down.”

He obeyed the order, stuffing what was in his hands into his tunic as subtly as he could as he lowered himself to the ground.

Once his feet were back on the earth, he looked up at Frigga contritely. “I _am_ sorry, mother…”

Frigga shook her head, ruffling his hair. He didn't like it when she did that, but it was reassuring all the same. “Don't worry, I'm not angry about your climbing. I was looking for you to see if you could help me.”

“I can! What do you need help with?”

“I was just tending to the blackberry bushes,” she said, her brow crinkling as she looked back over her shoulder towards the bushes in question. “The berries have been ripening well over the last few days, and today was going to be the first day when we would be able to harvest some. But when I went there, I found that all of the berries which _should_ have been ready to pick were all gone.”

Loki went still, sucking in his lips, hoping there was no juice on his face. There was some still on his fingers – he could feel the stickiness of it when he squeezed his fists behind his back.

Frigga glanced back down at him, and there was a steeliness in her eye which told him, she had a very good idea of what had happened ,whether there was still any evidence left on his face or not. “Did you see anything? You've been out there all morning.”

He bit at his lips, two instincts fighting one another: to be truthful with his mother, or to avoid getting into trouble.

He decided to compromise.

“I think I saw Thor earlier,” he said, and nearly pointed in the direction he meant, but caught himself. “Going that way,” he nodded instead. “I think he was going to the stables…”

Her eyes narrowed on him, and he cringed under the look. It was even worse than when his father gave him that kind of look, and he didn't think it was because she had twice as much to glare at him _with_.

_“Loki…”_

“Well, I _did_ see him!”

“I don't doubt _that_ ,” Frigga said, her expression not softening in the least. “But he wasn't the one who decided to strip the blackberries, was he?”

Loki dropped his eyes, deciding that his boots were easier to stare at than trying to hold his mother's eye. “I dunno…”

The silence stretched for a while. Loki didn't dare to say anything, or to look up. He wasn't sure what it was which had given him away, but he'd been caught, and now there was only the consequence to wait for. He wondered if he would get into extra trouble for suggesting that Thor could have been the one who ate all the berries.

Eventually, finally, he heard his mother sigh. “I won't ask you _why_ you disobeyed and ate the berries. That's a silly question when I understand the temptation to pick the berries as soon as they're ripe.”

Loki peeked up at her carefully through his lashes. She wasn't glaring at him anymore, but her mouth was still set in a firm, disappointed line.

“ _But_ ,” she said, confirming his suspicion, “just because I _understand_ , doesn't mean that it's _alright_ for you to have done it.”

Loki nodded. He wondered if he should take the last of the berries out of his tunic and eat them, or if he should keep pretending that he didn't have any more.

“Go put on some of your oldest clothes. You're going to spend the rest of the day helping me with the rest of the gardening.”

His head shot up. “But mother—!”

She didn't raise her voice, but her eyebrows. It cut him off just as effectively. “Old clothes,” she repeated. “Right now. Since you've decided that you can reap the fruits of the garden, you can help with the caring for it, as well.”

Loki dropped his head. There was no point in arguing, or in trying to get out of his punishment. There was never any point in trying to escape his mother when she was set to something.

“Yes, mother.”

And Loki went off to dress himself in his oldest, most damaged clothes which hadn't been thrown out. By the time his mother told him his punishment was done, after a whole day off helping her in the garden, those clothes were significantly worse than when they'd started.

—•—

It became the standard punishment for Loki. Whenever he was caught at one of his pranks, or when he broke a rule, or started a fight with Thor, Frigga would tell him to put on his gardening clothes.

It was hard work, but not terrible. She didn't work him like he was a serf, but working in a garden wasn't easy, no matter what it was he had to do. Pulling weeds, turning earth, digging, raking, pruning, carrying, wheeling, transferring… the amount and variety of work to be done in a garden was much more than he had ever thought.

“Loki, do you know who it was that turned Thor's hair green?”

“Uh…”

“I think the plum tree could use a little pruning, don't you?”

“... Yes, mother.”

It was strange to have a regular, almost standard punishment. No matter what he did or kind of trouble he got into, he was put into the gardens, and he would sweat and work until it felt as though his muscles were made of water. It was… almost nice, knowing what he could expect if he got caught.

“Heimdall came to me this morning, Loki.”

“Whatever he said, I can explain!”

“Can you?”

“... no…”

“Go get your gardening clothes on, then.”

However reassuring knowing what the punishment would be, though, it didn't make the work itself any easier.

“The roses need fertilizing today, Loki. And watch for aphids, they've been bad this year.”

“Yes, mother.”

He learned as he worked in the gardens. He learned how to care for the plants, what to look for in a healthy plant versus an unhealthy one, how to prune and sow and harvest. He learned how a garden _worked_ , and how he could work within one.

And eventually, working beside his mother, he learned how peaceful it could be to just _be_ _in_ a garden, working quietly, and watching the world around him change in ways large and small, all due to his efforts.

“Loki? What are you doing here?”

He looked up from where he was working, gloved hands still half buried in the soil of his pot. “I'm changing the strawberries’ pot,” he said, feeling an almost automatic stab of guilt, though he'd done nothing to earn it.

Frigga's brow furrowed, but she was smiling a little, uncertain but amused. “Have you gotten into trouble already today, and brought yourself here on your own?”

Loki wrinkled his nose at her. “No! I just…” he looked down at the little strawberry plant. He shrugged, not able to put everything he was feeling into a single phrase. “I just wanted to be here.”

Frigga didn't reply. After a moment or two, she came to stand next to him, and they worked together on repotting the strawberry plants.

Working in the garden was still hard, sometimes, but he didn't hate it. He _enjoyed_ the quietness, the satisfaction of working with his hands and seeing the results. It might still be work, but working in the garden wasn't a punishment anymore.

—•—

Not all planets were the same, and by extension not all suns were the same, either.

With his eyes closed and face turned to the light, allowing _this_ sun to shine on and warm him, he decided that it was similar enough to the sun which had once shone on Asgard that he might have been standing back in his mother's garden. The warmth of the sun, the gentle breeze over his skin, the quiet little sliver of peace he could feel working its way into him…

It had been so long since the last time he'd felt anything like peace, like quietude, he'd almost forgotten what it _could_ feel like.

“Lokes?”

Of course it couldn't last for long.

With a silent sigh, Loki opened his eyes. The vague vision of green, of flowers and fruits, fountains and bowers, all evaporated as reality intruded back on his senses. Just like the man who had brought it with him.

He was not in his mother's garden on Asgard. Asgard was gone, as was his mother. He was on Midgard, and moreover on the Avengers Tower. Right at the top, where years ago he had attempted to open up a portal and bring Armageddon down on this planet - the only planet which seemed willing to shelter him, ironically. He'd come here as one of the few places where it felt as though he were alone, and not likely to be disturbed. Even his rooms didn't feel completely private. There was always the presence of the computer hovering on the edge of his awareness. The system was here as well, but it felt less oppressive when there was a sky overhead.

And now the man in charge of it all was also here. He couldn’t really be _too_ angry at Stark’s intrusion on Loki’s moment of privacy, seeing as how this _was_ his Tower. But he could still resent it.

“What are you doing up here?”

Loki blinked at him slowly. “Conducting a symphony.”

Stark blinked back at him, blank-faced for a moment, and then broke into a smile. “I guess that was kind of a stupid question…”

Loki shrugged. “Not entirely. When one has a mage living in their home, silence can be a rather alarming sound.”

“Well, I’m glad _you’re_ the one who said it. Sounded kind of rude when I was thinking it.” Taking Loki’s lack of rejection of his company as an invitation, Stark came the rest of the way onto the roof from the door where he’d been standing.

It looked like it was one of Stark’s rare days off, though it was hard to tell just be looking at him. He was dressed casually, but there were times when he attended professional meetings dressed as though he were spending the entire day on his couch. He could and did dress professionally, arriving at meetings well dressed and brushed down – but not every time. Loki had been surprised before, and had learned not to take the man at face value.

It seemed like the safest approach when it came to Anthony Stark.

“When it comes to how you choose to conduct yourself around others,” Loki pointed out, “rudeness only ever seems to recommend a course of action, rather than deter you.”

“Speak for yourself, Bambi,” Stark laughed.

It was good to hear him laugh. It meant that things were better – better than they could be. Laughter meant that there was a certain amount of ease between them, and that Loki could relax. Or at least he could relax more than he had been able to when he had first been brought to the Avengers Tower and – provincially – made a part of the team as well.

No objections had been raised – and by that, it meant that there had been no objections so large as to _keep_ Loki from being made a part of the team. But it had still been awkward at first.

He had proven his worth in that final fight with the Mad Titan, proven where his loyalties lay when it all came down to the wire. It was his performance during that fight, how he had become a part of the team by necessity and how well they had all worked together, which had recommended and allowed him to remain where he was now.

The Asgardians wouldn’t have him where they had settled. They had already lost their world, their Queen and King, and were on an entirely new planet. It was best if he, a known embodiment of chaos, was as far from them as possible, and give them the opportunity to settle into their new lives.

Exploring the universe was an option. The Guardians had offered to give him a lift, perhaps even a place on _their_ team if things worked out well, but Loki had politely refused. He’d had enough of being in space, of free floating from place to place. He, too, needed some time to heal, to process everything which had happened.

He was tired, and the temptation to simply put down roots and become a part of Midgard permanently was a strong one.

Stark stood beside him, oddly silent. Loki cast him a curious glance, but Stark said nothing. He just continued to look out over the cityscape, over the roofs and out to the sea. Puzzled, but not willing to disturb the silence which Stark was willing to allow, Loki held his tongue and looked out over the city as well.

It was some time before Loki finally broke the silence, almost without intending to. “A garden would be nice up here.”

Stark looked over at him, startled. Loki could hardly blame him; _he_ was startled at his comment as well.

“A garden?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of them,” he said, opting to act as though his non sequitur were perfectly logical in and of itself.

“Well, yes, but…” He glanced around the roof of the building. The roof was, ostensibly, built with the idea that it could be used as a landing zone for helicopters and the like, but for the Avengers Tower the roof was a secondary option. It was, more or less, an emergency landing zone, not the one used day to day. “Why would you think that a garden would be a good idea up here?”

“Because it would do better up here than in someone’s living room.”

When he glanced back at Loki, he looked as though he were holding back a lot of sarcasm. “I think you’re being difficult on purpose, now. Why do you _want_ a garden, then, smart ass? Do you need special plants or something for you magic potions?”

“It would be that surgeon wizard of yours who would need herbs for potions,” Loki muttered. He still wasn’t overly fond of Dr. Strange, and the feeling was mutual. He shook his head, throwing out the rising irritation. “I have no need of any specific plants to be ready and on hand, no. When I say that a garden would be nice here, I mean simply that: that it would be pleasant to have a garden close at hand to enjoy.”

Stark stared at him, very obviously trying to puzzle him out. It was a recognizable expression, it was often on Stark’s face when he was looking at him. It was amusing, and a little charming, that the human was working so hard to try and figure him out.

He’d be lying to himself if said that he didn’t try and make it more of a challenge for the man, just to see if he’d try even harder.

“Sorry, I’m still having a little trouble imagining this. You like to hang out in gardens?”

Loki smirked at him. “If you’re having so much difficulty just with imagining _that_ , Stark, then I’m afraid I might short you out completely. I enjoy the act of garden _ing_ as well.”

Stark stared for a minute. Then he grinned.

“Alright, I’m convinced. We’re getting a garden installed up here. I’ve _got_ to see this.”

—•—

Installing a garden onto the roof of the Avengers Tower proved to be incredibly simple. It was probably even simpler than Stark assumed it would be, since Loki was more than willing to use his magic to smooth the process along. Before long the roof of the Avengers Tower was laid out with all manner of beds, pots, tables, and a smallish greenhouse, all set up and ready for Loki to turn it into a lush garden.

There were odd rumblings from the rest of the team – curious for the most part, wondering what it was he wanted with a garden but not being willing to ask him directly. Loki didn’t volunteer any explanations, once again finding it more entertaining to allow them to wonder for themselves and to come to their own wild conclusions. To be fair, Stark didn’t seem in much of a hurry to inform them of what was happening, either.

It seemed he also enjoyed the small flurry of confusion they were causing.

Loki set to work on the garden immediately. Donning a set of clothes he didn’t care if they got dirty or torn, and conjuring up a pair of gloves and a wide brimmed hat, he dove into the task of sowing seeds, readying beds, and transferring the few starts they had into new pots.

It was… disturbingly easy to fall back into the old patterns of garden work. The memories of working in his mother’s gardens for hours upon hours were easily tapped, and easily brought out to where he could use the knowledge in them all over again in this new space. It was relaxing, soothing, the very act of creating the space as much of a balm to him as the expected pleasure to be had from the garden itself.

As he worked, it was difficult to avoid the thought that he was, in a way, rebuilding the gardens Frigga had once tended. The memories of those gardens intruded so much, the patterns of their layouts coming through so clearly that they effected his planning of this garden…

Whether he intended it or not, he suspected that Frigga’s gardens would be reflected in his.

Stark, true to his intention, _did_ watch him quite a bit as he worked, designed and arranged the Tower’s newest feature. At first it did seem to be purely out of curiosity and amusement. He would sit by and observe, grinning the entire time. Loki didn’t mind, or give him much attention. He knew that watching someone garden would, eventually, become incredibly dull and Stark would lose interest. He might have some small suspicion that Loki intended to get up to something – that he might be planning to lull him and everyone else into a false sense of security and would get up to trouble as soon as eyes were taken off of him… but it wasn’t terribly likely. Stark’s and everyone else’s behavior around and concerning him was almost worryingly trusting.

But Stark, to Loki’s shock, never seemed to get so bored that he would leave. He was there, every day, watching as Loki slowly turned the empty beds and pots into a living garden.

Eventually he _did_ get bored of just watching, and to Loki’s mild astonishment, picked up a spade and started digging in as well.

Stark caught the smile on Loki’s face, and sent a smirk back at him. “Gotta admit, it’s still a little weird, watching you pottering away in a garden. You really don’t seem like the type. I mean,” he looked down at what he was doing, the pots and soil seeming out of place in his hands. “I kind of expected you to just sort of… _magic_ everything the way you wanted it to be. Why do you know so much about this stuff?”

Loki reflected the smirk back. “Wouldn’t you like to know. In a life as long as mine, I assure you, one picks up a very varied skillset.”

“I suppose one would,” he agreed, and now his eyes were on Loki’s hands, watching as he worked. “Mind teaching me a little?”

He blinked, and looked at Stark curiously. “And why would _you_ want to know how to work in a garden?”

The man shrugged, to all appearances self-conscious to have even asked, and now attempting to act as though he hadn’t. “No reason, I suppose. It’s just… it’d be nice to have something to do while I’m up here, rather than just watching you the whole time. I feel a bit useless.”

“You could always refrain from coming up to watch me while I’m working. I’m perfectly capable of finding my way back to the stairs if that’s what you’re concerned with.”

“It’s uh… it’s not what I’m concerned with, really.” He had picked up a pot, and was now passing it back and forth between his hands distractedly. “I’m more concerned with just, you know… getting to know you, I guess. And having something in common, something to do and pass the time together seems like a good place to start on that. A good way to make it a little easier. You seem to really like this planting and stuff, and it doesn’t look too complicated to learn, so…”

Loki stared at him, realization dawning. Stark wasn’t sticking close to him because he thought that Loki might get up to trouble, it was because…

Well. Wasn’t that something?

And why not? After everything which had happened, all of the endings which had happened or nearly happened, why not work on creating something new – a new beginning for the both of them?

Moving gently, he took the pot out of Stark’s— _Anthony’s_ hands.

When he looked up at Loki, worry in his eyes and making a line appear between his brows, Loki smiled at him. “Why don’t we start with the seedlings in the greenhouse?” he suggested softly. “They should be just sprouting, and could use some attention.”

The grin which spread across Anthony’s face was a little like the sun itself coming out from behind the clouds, and it was impossible not to respond to it.

Once, Loki might have thought that being confined to this planet, having almost no choice but to remain for the foreseeable future would have been a punishment. Penance for all of his crimes.

Once, he’d thought of gardening as a punishment, as well.

**Author's Note:**

> There was so much more I wanted to put in here, but I ran out of time! Hopefully it doesn't feel too rushed. ^^;;
> 
> \---
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!
> 
> You can find me on  
> Tumblr: [@ehtarwrites](http://ehtarwrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@ehtarwrites](https://twitter.com/ehtarwrites)  
> Discord: @ehtarwrites#4962 
> 
> If anyone wants to come say hi or chat about nerdy things, hmu! ♥


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